Saturday, May 22, 2010

The lonely tool box, why lonely - don't ask !!!

Surma boy came today. He was facing nightmares. Glasses of amritsari lassi, one after the other, non stop, like the non stop flight from delhi to mumbai. And i saw the box open, windows exposed to sunlight after a year, the tool box lay wide open, all spread out, waiting to be played with. I, the artist and little timmy with black powder eyes started to search the kuura kabbar lying on the floor. I always knew you could do a lot with a screw. Screw you buddy, said my cousion on a full moon night as i told him about the monster in the balcony.

Summer Residency, nimbu paani, kapichinu, and the hawk babies are getting bigger, all around me are holes in the road. And in my frustration i sit in KFC, tearing the murga in my mouth, going round and round the circles of CP (crazy place) and falling sick on the kachha duudh of keventar, watching out for the holes everywhere. Yes, the tool box and the sun light in the gallery. It brings a smile to my face and a giggle within.

For I am cheeni monster, wanting to run into the mountains and jump into the river beas and die, me floating. So the works, erotic art, gatka movement, my stories, all wanting to come out, wanting me take a Jump... like a kangaroo off the top of Qutab minar and scream as i fall down.

Yeah, it must've been love but it's over now, it must've been butter chicken because i ate it all.